The Power of reading
by DancyWolfWorks
Summary: While reading through and checking a load of books for clues, Sherlock and John get a bit.. distracted. will be rated M for later chapters.


It was about nine o' clock at night, the bright evening glow has finally settled beneath the blue, starry blanket of this icy British night. Many families had already turned down their lights and pulled the curtains closed, leaving the streets abandoned and desolate, save for a few late night workers and party-goers. Yes, indeed it seemed everyone on the block had retired to their quarters for the night. That is, except, for the lively residents of apartment 221 B.

That was an entirely different matter. Two young men, Sherlock Holmes and John Watson, were far from sleep. They were frantically reading through and checking loads of shabby old books, trying to find just a hint or clue related to the investigation. The two had been searching for hours, and although Sherlock remained energetic, John was utterly exhausted. They had been investigating for days, interrogating strangers, and running on crazy wild goose chases that led to nothing at the end. It infuriated John, and often at times like this, he wondered why he even bothered staying with Sherlock. He had a nice, well-paying Job, and if need be, he could always move back in with a family member, or a friend. IT seemed like every time Sherlock dragged him along on one of his adventures, they always ended up staring Death right in the face. He was sure that he could leave anytime he wanted, so why didn't he? Maybe it was because Sherlock was the only one who was able to decipher his strange ways, if that makes any sense.

"No." John spat quietly to himself. That couldn't be why. It was probably because going on investigations with Sherlock was the only exciting thing left in his life. As John sat back in his chair, lost in thought, the page he was gripping had slowly begun to tear.

"John. John! You idiot snap out of it!" Sherlock growled and approached him angrily. Startled, John dropped the book onto his lap.

"Sorry." He cleared his throat and scratched his head. "I was just a bit miffed on things."

"Well there is work to be done John, what's gotten in to you?" He tossed a couple of books into a box and observed him.

"Oh, well I'm just tired, that's all." He feigned a yawn, and nervously flipped through the book in his lap.

Lying will do you no good John." Sherlock sighed, trying to make sense of the situation. Something was very wrong with John; he could see it in his face.

"I'm not Lying!" John mumbled bitterly. "I am tired, in a way."

"Well you're just going to have to live with it for now, John. We're running out of time!" He grumbled and returned to work. John remained silent, the only sound in the room was the occasional flip of a page, and Sherlock's frustrated sighs. John tried to focus on his book, but the question was eating away at his mind.

"Sherlock." He muttered, breaking the silence. "Why do you keep me around, of clearly I slow you down?" This random outburst caused Sherlock to pause what he was doing for a moment.

"You know why." Sherlock sighed, and began organizing the books again.

"Do I?" He grumbled, turning his attention to the other man. "Then why don't we get you another skull? Unlike me, it wouldn't talk back or- or feel emotions and such."

"You're talking nonsense John, listen to yourself." Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"Oh, so I suppose if I left, you wouldn't mind?" John remarked, now standing.

"Well I-"Sherlock was cut off halfway.

"I'm sick and tired of being dragged along on your insane, dangerous adventures, while constantly worrying over your safety and well-being, but I guess you don't give a hoot!" He huffed, and stomped towards the door.

"John!" Sherlock exclaimed. "This is ridiculous! Don't be an-"

"An idiot?!" John growled, cutting him off. "Well, I'll just get out of your hair then!"

"John just wait!" He stumbled over a chair, swiping a pile of books off the desk on accident.

"It's fine." He turned, and faced Sherlock. "I should have realized earlier. You probably can't even recognize human emotion."

Sherlock was completely shocked by John's words. Why couldn't he see this before? Over the time they had worked together, John had developed some sort of affection or feelings towards him. Although it was strange, Sherlock could understand. He too enjoyed John's company, perhaps more than he should at times. Of course, he hadn't planned on saying anything of the matter, but now that John has challenged him, he must take some sort of action.

Before john could say anything, he had been pushed against the flimsy, wooden door of the apartment.

"Sherlock I-" John stuttered, avoiding his inquisitive gaze. He squeezed his eyes shut, awaiting a slap across the face, but instead, felt something shockingly different. Rough, forceful lips, driven by utter passion had been pressed against his, leaving John completely astonished. He hadn't expected that at all, and was unable to return the kiss before Sherlock pulled away.

"Still think I'm incapable, John?" He remarked with a devious grin, and arched brows.

"You idiot." John mused, pulling Sherlock back into a real kiss. John could tell that Sherlock was inexperienced in anything romantic, so he gave him a more relaxed, gentle brush against the lips, instead of a rough, forced slobber. Sherlock was able to catch on rather quickly, wrapping his arms tightly against the other. Every second the kiss lasted sent thousands of shivers and sparks through out both of their bodies. They broke away only when John had to gasp for breath, rather reluctantly.

"Now." Sherlock whispered, leaning forward. "We should get back to work."

"mm right." John nodded, in a bit of a daze.


End file.
